Bloodlust
by Megustamuffins
Summary: He is the monster, the machine. He is there for once purpose, to kill. But that annoying voice in his head, that one boy, always complicates things. And now he will have to face what is beneath the artifical memories, to discover that who he is, has been there the whole time. Can this man, this shared body of Allen Walker, learn to love? FOREVER HIATUS


He sat there, unmoving, following the orders given to him. But who was he? An artificial being, a weapon. Created for the simple purpose to destroy. But these thoughts were not allowed, so he shut off his thinking. No more, he told the unwanted intrusions. You are not allowed to influence me.

A dark shadow fell across his face, and his empty eyes looked up.

"20013. I see you are ready for orders." The thing, because that's all he is, nodded. Yes, ready to kill more innocent. Because that was his purpose. He was there to destroy, to kill, to remain unfeeling.

To give in to the pesky thing called thoughts, would be fatal. That would make him more human, and then he would be of no use.

Artificial, because that is all he is. Artificial. Not real, not there. A machine, made for them, a robot.

With that though ringing in his head, he stood, gave a small stiff bow to the man in front of him. "As you wish." Came his metallic, cold and lifeless reply. Because he was a robot, he was nothing. A tool without thoughts or feelings. A killing machine. He noticed the man suppressing shivers.

Good, let them fear their own creation. Let them fear the monster they made.

And with that he walked out of the compound. Ready to kill. Kill, because that was what he is made for. To murder, destroy, to shed blood.

Blood, how nice the word sounded on his tongue. How nice, how it overpowered that metal taste in his mouth. He lusted for the flavor of blood, to disguise that taste that reminded him of what he was. A machine.

Adjusting his collar, he glanced over to the left, where a black car was waiting, the windows tinted and on closer examination, the doors unlocked. This must be his transportation. Walking over to the car in his usual fashion, walking stiffly like the robot he was, he opened the back door.

This revealed a metal box on the black leather seats. Fishing a key out of his pocket, he opened the lid, curiously glancing at the contents. A black jacket, a file with a few photos sticking out of the top and a computer chip. The small chip read "Cross Beta" and he grabbed it in his fist. Grimacing he pulled his black glove off and rolled up his long sleeve, exposing the arm to him.

In a cross like design was the slits for the chips. Four, one already filled and evident by the green light, were forming the shape. He slipped the new one in the second slot, flinching as the electric current ran through his arm and the small second diamond light glowed red, then green.

Immediately his left eye began spinning, and gear covered the pupil. His once metal, silver iris turned red as the chip activated. "Cursed Eye Level 2" A robotic voice, feminine in nature, came out of his mouth as the new chip took effect. "Cross Beta Activated." The voice spoke again and his arm took on a new shape.

A metal gun with glowing yellow beams took the place of his appendage. He smirked and lowered his arm, transforming it back to its red and horrific state. Pulling back on the glove, he put the case in the passenger seat and took the drivers spot. On the wheel was a code. Activating his eye, he read it and pressed the petal. Making a sharp left, he continued down the twisting road, a more so twisted smile covering his face. Finally, the taste would be replaced. With that of bloodlust.

Pulling up to the tranarael* station, he pulled the car into one of the spots and grabbed the silver briefcase, pulling out the ticket from the file. Glancing up at the tall metal structure above him, he grinned. One of the passenger cars shot over the rails, looking like a silver bullet. It stopped at the station, located about 100 feet above where he was standing. To watch this burn, would be a beautiful sight.

No, not beautiful, just following orders. Just doing what he was told, like a nice little robot. His reward was the reaping, the blood. Licking his lips, he locked the car and walked towards the tranarael. Immediately when he got in the safe distance, the car exploded, keys locked inside. Leave no evidence, he repeated in his head, transforming his arm back to normal.

Sliding into the elevator, the doors closed and he was met with silence, looking around he deemed he was the only occupant of the large room. As it started to move, the floors changed numbers. Then, the room stopped on floor 30. The door slid open, and two men walked in. One with dark hair, long and unsightly, pulled back. The other, a smiling red-haired man, who was also quiet.

One the men, the dark-haired one, glanced over at him. He felt his lip curl, what weaklings. How dare they look at him with such open curiosity. Or was it curiosity?

The man looked at his partner, who was standing behind him, and he felt his stomach churn when he realized they had surrounded him. Swallowing, he looked for means of escape. But why escape? Wasn't he supposed to be a robot? Robot's didn't feel fear right? He glanced side to side, still looking for a slim chance to run, until something sharp pricked his neck and everything went black.

Unconsciousness was the worst. The data numbers danced across his vision, filling his vast and empty skull. He read all the information there, everything they had ever implanted. The little tidbits of proper etiquette that would never be used by him, to the ways to kill a man with only his pinky.

Too bad he was weak, letting those humans knock him out. But he knew, deep inside, that these were not normal humans. The feeling had warned him, told him that even with all his power he would lose. That now he was as good as dead. They would suck the information out of his brain. All his chips, the ones that gave him his personality. All his memories and missions. All his data. Then what would he be? Would he just be an empty shell? What was underneath the thing his masters had implanted. Could he really be more than a machine?

He knew it, that there was someone else in his body. Number 20013 knew. He heard that whiny, pouting little voice. Crying, telling him to stop killing. That voice, what was his name? That voice would gain control, for seconds but still.

Was it malfunction, or was there really another person in his mind? Scratch that, for he wasn't a person. The voice was, but 20013 wasn't.

Who was this boy, plaguing his thoughts? This polite, agony filled voice that could be found crying over every slain soul. That voice that cried all the tears he could not.

Who was Allen Walker?

* * *

**So yah... I should be working on Meeting Again... but I was having a bit of a homework crisis, and this actually was part of this story I have to write for english... So Review PLEASE! I don't know what pairings... I may just have everyone die so IDK... just kidding. But this will be continued... eventually... so yeah... this is like my... 30th story? I don't know... am gonna go finish my homework... okay... yesh...**

**Anyway BTW... what is a Bad-ass nerd? Some guy called me that after I punched him in the nose, he tried (emphasis on TRIED) to grab a certain part of my anatomy... that would have resulted in a hefty kick to the groin, but luckily (for him) I saw it coming... yeah... But what the hell does that even mean?!**

***Pronouced (TRAN- a- rail)... like a train but on tracks above the ground and the cars move really fast...**


End file.
